Going Down in Flames
by kris932
Summary: Some how I got talked into telling my life story, I’m sure everyone is just dieing to read it too. Well, why don’t you click on the story and hear all about my parents, life before high school and life after Stronghold and Hippie came barging in.WarPOV
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own a copy of the _Sky High _DVD and Soundtrack…and a copy of _the Drifters._ Besides that…nothing. I don't even own the computer I'm typing this on.

Note: This story is completely in Warren's point of view. This writing is style is new to me and any advice, flames; any feed back at all is wildly welcomed! I hope his parents were believable.

** Going up in Flames**

I guess if I'm going to tell my life story it should start with my parents. They met in high school. The same school I'm attending now (I think they enjoyed Sky High a _lot _more than me. But that's another story…well actually part of this story.) The term 'High School Sweethearts' has been used to describe the years of their relationship and technically they were, after all, they did marry each other just out of high school and so on.

I'll start with my mother, Christine Joyce Peace. Her parents were super powered government officials. They did a lot of work with foreign policy and negotiating treaties with other countries. Mom spent quite a few years living in countries like China, Spain, Italy, and India before she even started high school. Sky High was the first and only American school she attended (Well except now she works in one…)

I'm not sure what exactly her parents' powers were so I can't help you there, but mom's powers were similar to theirs according to her old stories. She has the ability to understand and speak any language (with a few exceptions, like ancient Aztec. Can't understand a single word of ancient Aztec, luckily she hasn't needed ancient Aztec…Italian also gives her some problems.) along with almost complete indestructibility. Couple that with all those years living in foreign countries and being taught hand to hand combat by the masters' in China made her quite daunting in power placement.

I don't think the gym teacher at the time found the language thing as impressive though…

She was sorted into the Hero track after showing her ability in the martial arts. In fact the ability to speak different languages almost landed her on the sidekick track. It was a useful talent the school admitted, but hardly what they looked for in a Hero.

I think now would the best time to bring in my father, Baron Jonathan Battle. Oh, yes I know! You _know_ all about him…Just shut up and keep reading.

Father was living with his aunt and uncle when he started high school. His parents had died in a power fight between some villains and heroes. For the record, they were on the heroes' side. Oh, all the villains were captured (by Steve Stronghold's parents) and were safely locked up in Maxville's strongest jail for the super powered.

I don't think Dad really remembered his parents. He was only three when they died. I know he adored his aunt and uncle though. Good people.

Anyway, power placement for Dad was a lot easier than it was for Mom. His powers, oh so similar to mine, made him a shoe in for the Hero track. He dressed a _lot _different from me, though.

Power placement was the first time my parents saw each other.

At first I don't think Dad made much of an impression on Mom; I think that she probably thought he was just another jock with a swelled head. But, boy did shy little Ms. Peace who could speak a thousand languages on a whim catch his eye!

But it certainly, wasn't love at first sight. Baron was popular and smart. Christine was very pretty…and very unpopular. She had turned down nearly every boy in her year, and kicked a few of their asses too. (Reminds me of a certain girl I know…but that comes later) She preferred books over parties and intelligence and wit over physical strength. Part of the reason she once turned down Steve Stronghold (before he met Jetstream). Mom also had something of an infamous temper. She could really get fired up. But, her anger was usually justified in its cause and she always tried to act as peaceful as possible…but she did have a temper.

It wasn't until the middle of the summer of her junior year that Christine Peace even showed some interest in Dad.

This was when Mom and Dad ended up in the same foreign exchange program in Italy. Mom had entered the program to improve her Italian (one of her weak points) Dad had entered because it was new and thrilling and he had always liked a challenge.

They never told me much about how they first got together. All I know is Dad proved to Mom that he wasn't some dumb jock by having a very long discussion on the bus ride to Pompeii about the book _**The Drifters**_. It was a book that had captured my Mom's interest and Dad was the first person she'd meet that had read it and was willing to discuss it for hours on end. Dad favored Cato and Yigal. Mom liked Yigal and Joe. First time they really agreed on something. Both of them liking Yigal I mean, and of course, James A. Michener's writing.

They had their first kiss by an ancient alter looking onto Mount Vesuvius. An apt beginning for a relationship that would go up in flames, after all, Pompeii burned and disappeared.

But my parents' relationship didn't just burn up.

In fact it thrived though all opposition.

My parents graduated Sky High with honors. (Well at least my dad did.) He graduated with two starring roles in the school musicals (one future arch enemy in Steve Stronghold), captain of the super powered soccer team, and grades in the top ten percent of his class.

Mom graduated with decent grades and Baron Battle's class ring on a chain around her neck. She never told me about the time he gave it to her. Some wounds go to deep. So I can only wonder about that. But, I've never seen her without it.

Three months after their high school graduation my parents were married. Many of their fellow class mates attended the wedding. (Steve Stronghold and his parents included.)

I never really wanted to hear about their honeymoon, so I never asked. Honestly, couldn't even tell you where they went. I'm taking a wild stab here and saying Sorrento in Italy. But that's just a wild guess…

Mom's parents weren't to wild 'bout their daughter getting married at eighteen. Way, way too young! Their objections as you can see fell on deaf ears. I don't think they ever liked Dad. Won't even talk to their daughter now. She still sends them cards during all the major holidays. Kinda sad really. Frankly, my grandparents tick me off.

Well for about five years my parents work together as your typical crime fighting team. However, they worked on an international level. That job was secured by my mom's language talents and travels when she was a kid. Both my parents get a kick out of traveling, hell so do I.

Then one day my mom finds out she's going to have a baby.

And so my story really begins…

**Review? Please? It's really not that hard to do… **


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own a Spiderman DVD….but no comics…

A/N: Another chapter. It seems I actually have time to write these days. Which is great! Thanks for taking the time to read my work.

Well! Your back I see…is my life really that interesting? Don't answer that. I really don't want to know. If I wasn't being forced (talked) into doing this I'd tell the whole lot of you to fu..Ok Ok mom, I'm not cussing…gesh.

So anyway, where was I? Uh huh, right. Great thanks…

I hate this telling my life story thing. But, in my defense I don't need your help to tell it. All right, all right just let me start why don't you!

Anyway…before I was so rudely interrupted I was about to continue with my story. I've already told you about my parents' early relationship so we are going to move on.

Now mom was pregnant with me….well you get_ that_ point! So I'm going to skip ahead to when I'm five and I actually remember things…sort of.

I'll start with my fifth birthday party. We were living in New Jersey. A small town called Closter. It's about a half hour drive from the George Washington bridge and New York City. Both my parents worked in New York City for both of their jobs. (Spiderman had nothing on them. However Spiderman never got arrested…and had some pretty sweet comic books…anyway.) They had this great alternating plan that allowed one of them to work at protecting the city while the other was home with me. (No preschool for little Warren Battle.) They ran a translation service out of their home so a cover job was very easy for them.

Paid well too. Closter and the surrounding towns _were not_ cheap places to live. Even more expensive there now…mansions on every corner, no originality whatsoever. I liked it when we lived there, though.

Well, it's my birthday and I'm five. My great aunt and uncle had come in for my birthday and to visit their nephew and his wife. I was in a REALLY good mood.

Then it happened.

All five of us were gathered around the kitchen table. Mom left the room to go to the garage. She returned with a brightly lit ice cream birthday cake. (Dad was nice enough to remain far away so it wouldn't melt before everyone had a piece.)

It had six candles (Two were red two were black. One was blue.) five for my age and one for good luck, of course.

Dad turned out the lights and Mom placed the cake down in front of me. I remember hearing my great aunt telling me to make a wish as I blow out the candles.

But, as I looked down at that Oreo ice cream cake I had this really weird feeling, a sort of feverish feeling. It didn't make any sense and it scared me. Hell, I was five I just wanted to open my gifts…but no.

As I went to blow the candles out the opposite happened.

The flames that danced from the top of the candles instead of shrinking grew larger. Within seconds the whole cake had melted and actually started to boil. Oh and yah, the table was on fire.

So were my hands…

That's when my Dad started to laugh. He also took the time to extinguish the flames that were consuming his kitchen table and threatening to spread to other various furniture items.

I however, didn't see any humor in this. My hands were on fire for crying out loud! Mom had always told me fire was dangerous and that it should never be played with! (I at five had never seen my dad's powers in action)

So I did what any five year old with a spoiled birthday party would do. I promptly bust into tears…which evaporated in the fire that covered my hands.

I think Mom was in shock. My aunt and uncle certainly were!

Dad was the only one taking all of this in stride. He picked me up in this big bear hug and put out the fire that on my hands.

He was absolutely thrilled! His only son had his powers!

He just couldn't stop laughing and congratulating me. My mom joined into the hug (once the fire was out) and told me how proud she was of me. She couldn't stop running her fingers through my hair. It wouldn't be till the next morning that I figured out why…

Oh, before I continue here, if you tell anyone about all these cozy Hallmark moments…I will roast you. And if you don't die from the extreme burns, I know several people that will finish the job for me. Just a friendly warning…I was _five_!

When I finally stumbled out of bed the next morning and looked in the floor length mirror that hung on my door I stopped dead and became fully awake instantly.

My solid dark brown hair had vivid strips of red in it.

Oh boy, like that's normal for a five year old boy of a strait laced small (wealthy) town family.

Good thing I didn't have to go to preschool.

The next thing I know my Dad comes bursting into my room looking really excited. He literally drags me downstairs where my mom and aunt and uncle have another cake (not ice cream this time) sitting on the counter for me.

The remains of the kitchen table are no where to be seen, I guess they cleaned up and got rid of the scorch marks when I went to bed utterly exhausted.

I was too scared and excited to attempt to blow out the candles this time.

Dad started to laugh again. This time we all joined in with him.

I also finally got the chance to open my gifts, which seemed to have multiplied over night. I certainly wasn't complaining about _that_!

My parents were so proud of me; life at that moment seemed so perfect.

Amazing how things change with time, huh?

**Oh, there once was a reader that reviewed…**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not mine. Pity.

A/N: Chapter three…Princess Aranel thanks for the review. Thank you to everyone else that reviewed too.

0o0o0o

First of all I would like to point out THAT ABOUSOLTLY NOTHING in my life story is oozing adorableness! Hippie got burned when she called me 'cutie', 'oozing adorableness' isn't going to put me in any better a mood…

So, I'm moving on. I think you can understand what I'm talking about here…

Lets see…um…nothing between the ages 5-6 you really need to know about…oh, my first day of (private) school. I'm sure your just going crazy from the suspense!

Oh, I'm seven now, by the way.

My parents were under the impression that pre-school was bad for young impressionable children and that kindergarten was almost as damaging to young minds. Due to this philosophy I attended neither.

Dad I'm sure, was all set on having me home schooled for the years before high school. However, Mom got to thinking about it and decided (for once) she didn't agree with her husband.

At that time Dad was still intelligent and (sane) enough to listen to (in other words, obey) his wife.

But he did put his foot down on me going to a public school. That simply would not be acceptable for his son…Dad wanted me to have a solid well educated background, a huh, yah, and so on and so on.

Private school it would be.

However there were a few _slight _problems.

Like the strict hair and dress policy, that my newly formed red streaked hair didn't match.

I despised what happened next.

It was the morning before my first day of school and I was in my room playing with my model cars and attempting to build cities and roads out of my Legos. However I kept melting the legos by accident. I didn't like _that _at all! I was getting really frustrated when my mom showed up in the doorway of my room. I looked up at her but she didn't say anything or even move, just stood there leaning against the door frame. So I just went back to my cars and Legos.

Awhile later she finally spoke to me. She also left her post at the door way to come settle on my bed.

"Warren, are you looking forward to starting school?"

Well I wasn't sure what school would be like so I can't say I was _thrilled _to be going….

"Mmmhmm I guess, mom. Why?"

"Well Wren I was looking over the school rules last night and your father and I realized something."

"What?"

At this point I clearly remember my Mom biting her lip nervously. Trust me; it is rare to see my mom nervous.

"The school has a strict appearance policy…and I'm afraid the red in your hair just doesn't cut it."

I thought she was blaming me for the red…and what ever incredibly stupid rules that school had.

"Bb but mom…I well um, mom I can't help it! I'm not in t-trouble, right?"

Can't believe I actually worried about getting into trouble back then, but hey I was seven. Oh, well.

"No! Of course you aren't in trouble, It's not your fault at all! Anyway, It's nothing a little dark brown hair dye won't fix…"

"Hair dye?"

Trust me she sure wasn't kidding about the hair dye. I WILL NEVER EVER ALLOW MY HAIR TO BE DYED AGAIN! Come hell or high water that is never going to happen again. The only reason it happened then was that I was seven. My parents were taller and more powerful than me. Lucky me, I call (most of) the shots now.

So mom proceeded to dye my hair with this dark brown shit…come on 'shit' isn't cussing. Honestly! I swear you don't even let me talk sometimes…no I am not talking back to you…ok ok _ok_, I'm sorry! I'll try and watch my mouth.

And it seemed to be working. Not a single strand of fire red showed through the dye job the next day.

My parents dropped me off at school, acted all parentish as their only son started his first day of school…sigh…

Why would a first grade classroom even need an unlit candle in it? Isn't there some fire hazard rule about small children and the chance for an open flame?

Because there on my teacher's desk was a small lavender scented candle.

I'll get back to that candle in just a sec.

Well the class started like any average class would. The teacher (can't remember her name, oh well) called role, tried to teach us the alphabet or simple addition (something like that) and gave up after the first three hours. See there is the difference between public and private schools. Public would have given up within the first thirty minutes…all school systems are screwed…something I actually agree with my old man on.

Interpret **that** how you will!

Everything started to go down hill once the class started coloring these big letters for the class room. Each kid was assigned a different letter in the alphabet, in the end all the letters would be colored and hung around the room.

Easy task, even for a seven year old, right?

The crayons melted each time I attempted to pick them up. Intelligent me kept trying to pick them up and half the box had melt on my desk. The wax kept running together and it had started to drip on the floor.

"Warren's melting his crayons! I don't think that's allowed!"

Bigmouthed brat!

So the teacher comes over and asks me where I'm hiding the lighter.

"What lighter?" I honestly didn't have a lighter…

"Warren, lying is bad, just hand me the lighter and I'll tell your parents that you did the responsible thing."

"I DON'T HAVE A LIGHTER!"

Losing my temper never goes well.

That's when the candle on the teacher's desk lit up and melted so fast that by the time the teacher turned around, her desk was already on fire…

"What's in your hair, freak?"

Oh, _great_…I burnt the hair dye right out of my hair.

You can bet my parents had a hell of a time trying to explain this one.

Maybe that accounts for why we moved away soon after that incident.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Warren, his mom and dad or the state of California. In fact there is very little I do own. Pity.

A/N: The reviews are great…thanks everyone I'm thrilled by all the responses I have received. I'm trying to keep updating this story relatively often. Hopefully, I have done a decent job so far. Nothing beats writing in my free time between classes…

O0o0o0o

Well, after accidentally lighting my first grade teacher's desk on fire and burning (in front of a full classroom of little brats) brown hair dye right out of my hair, my family's cover was blown. Yeah, the government sent in people to clean up the whole mess and try and tone down all the rumors but, we all know the government never fixes things to satisfaction. So the only logical choice my family had was to move. Preferably, far far away. Like all the way across country. Away from the stares of the neighbors and the whispers that fallowed my mom when she went to the store. It was a small town, people talk. Everyone knew that something wasn't quite right with the Battles.

Within a week, we had moved out of Closter. It seems my parents had decided to ditch the East Coast for a while and move to the West Coast. _Welcome to California_. That was one hell of a long drive across the country.

I always wondered why we didn't fly across. (It wasn't until I took Powered Piloting for Heroes in my sophomore year of high school that I knew why) I'm sure I'll be forced to tell you this story too in the days to come.

Right. Driving to our new home in California. A). Not fun. B). Mom and Dad fought (civilly) 95 of the way. C). Oh boy on a few hundred more hours before we got there.

Never drive with your parents (at any age) across country. Especially, if you lit your teacher's desk on fire from several feet away.

But once we arrived at our new home the problems of the last few weeks seemed to melt away. The water front property home in Alameda (a town just outside of San Francisco) was beyond description!

Naturally, I've been informed that I _have_ to try and describe it…here goes.

(1)'Your own Castle on the Bay' Bay front home with **awesome** views and beach. (now if you want a good view you have to look over a condo. Not easy to do.)Extensively remodeled three-story home boasts 5 bedrooms and 4 baths with remodeled showers, beautiful kitchen with Sears appliances and custom cabinets, large media room/den, family room, living room, 2-car tandem garage with shed. Enjoy bay & city light views from balconies on every level.

Yes, I understand that doesn't sound like how I would describe it. I looked it up on a real-estate site…It's my story let me just tell it how I will.

Yes, I would be too hard for me to just tell you how it looked….

Ok, Ok, ok, Whatever….

I wasn't muttering ANYTHING under my breath!

It was a nice house, mansion, mini-castle…whatever you want to call it.

We settled in relatively quick. It seems all Californians are a little...odd…so we fit in easily. Just your average wealthy family that grew tired of the snow and sleet that hounded the winters in New Jersey. Dad spent half his time driving back to New York City to tie up all the lose ends and Mom started to home school me.

With Dad out of town Mom decided to make a few decisions on her own concerning my education and social (lack of) life.

California. Surfing. Typical.

So did I enjoy surfing lessons? I knew how to swim, in fact for a boy of my age I was a damn good swimmer. Yeah, I actually looked forward to them. However, the lessons usually left me exhausted from trying to control my body temperature in the water. Water and fire don't mix well, but I worked through it.

When Dad came home and found out what Mom had signed me up for he was _**far **_from pleased. I'd say water was a weakness for my Dad. The idea of letting me take surfing lessons didn't appeal to him.

That was the first major all out battle between my parents. Screaming and cursing on my Dad's part and yelling, sobbing, and pleading on my Mom's part. First time I ever saw them less than happy with each other. I had led a very sheltered 8 years of life. That first fight terrified me. There was so much going on behind the scenes of that fight that I can only guess about now that I have lived through the years since that first fight. It certainly wasn't just about surfing lessons. (As I'm you know)

Anyway, I was eight now and everyone else in the class attended a variety of second grades scattered around the county. I was the only home schooled kid in the group. That alone kept me ostracized from the rest of the kids. And as you know, I'm not the friendliest of people, so in the end I kept to myself.

All that time spent learning how to deal with my power in water of all temperatures sure paid off.

I was enjoying California, even more than I had enjoyed Closter, New Jersey. I was actually, _happy_.

So, of course, our lives have to go down hill from there.

Dad started to spend more and more of his time working back in New York. Mom spent the time that he was gone in a sort of harried worried state. Every time he got back, they would start to fight again.

They kept me in the dark about their fights. I only heard snatches of unrest between them. I blew it off, stress of moving or something like that. After all, what eight year old assumes the worst?

My family was still perfect. Nothing would ever change that! Ha! Note the sarcasm dripping form each and every word…

**Read…check, Review…please? Thank You!**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Not mine it all belongs to Disney.

Summary: Warren is telling his life story. He's not too happy about it, if you can tell.

0o0o0o0o

My Dad murdered a senator, a supreme court judge's wife, a few innocent passersby and was well on his way to blowing up an international meeting at the United Nations Building in New York City before he was captured by the one and only Commander…and Jetstream. But I'm getting ahead of my self.

Oh I _forgot_… this was a week before my twelfth birthday. I don't seem to have great luck around my birthdays…I was born on a Friday the Thirteenth…no seriously I was. In the month of December. I don't like December, its way to cold.

But, thank you, Dad! How can I ever repay you for all that you did for me and Mom?

Bastard! (I am the only one that is allowed to call him that UNDERSTAND!?) No one talks about my father, but me! And my mom if she absolutely has too.

So I suppose I have to tell you what happened. Like you didn't watch the news coverage on it a few years ago, you did, didn't you? Wow, imagine that. You and the rest of the _**world**_. It was on international ground, remember?

Here goes…

Dad never stopped traveling back and forth between New York and California. He was a wicked super hero and NYC wasn't ready to surrender him to the West Coast. Mom always stayed back in California with me. I was _still_ being home schooled. Now, don't get me wrong, their marriage was fine, still madly in love with each other and they even settled their 'battles' better. But Dad was simply living a double life.

On one hand you had my ultimate hero: Firelight, one of the world's greatest heroes and my dad. He was the kick ass dude that could wipe out a gang of super villains in minutes. The man I had looked up to since I could walk and talk and light my hands on fire. The person I wanted to grow up to be just like, minus the spandex uniform.

Then there was his 'dark side' I guess: **Onyx** Ember. What was up with that name anyway? Black Ember not flashy enough for him, huh? Not exactly an evil sounding name if you ask me, but then, his deeds did speak for themselves.

But as I have pointed out before this was all world wide news and if you want to look it up you can google the whole thing on the web. I think I'm putting down my foot on this one and not telling you anymore right now.

Why? I'm not discussing my Dad. END. OF. STORY.

Let's discuss the weather instead. It's very cloudy out. Kind of looks like it's going to rain within the hour. Never trust the weathermen; they said that that it would be sunny and slightly cloudy on the local news station. My girlfriend is going to love it if it starts raining…she'll probably drag me out for a walk in the rain if I'm not careful. Ugh, though it could be worse, it could be Layla dragging me out to go stare at grass growing or something like that.

I meant in a good way of course. Stop glaring at me, I wasn't insulting you…I was insulting hippie in an off hand way.

So I'm not allowed to discuss the weather now? FINE! FINE!

Yeah! Yeah! This is my life story. So I'm supposed to talk about myself. I'm really not that interesting.

Ok. I'll move on then.

Dad gets arrested. Mom legally changes our names back to her maiden name Peace. I finish middle school. Mom announces that we are going to move from California to Maxville. Why? Sky High, of course? Where else would I go to make my life completely hellish?

Oh, I have to give more detail then that? Next time then, I suggest you all get out of my house before I roast you guys alive. I'm not exactly, pleased with things right now.

Right, bye, see you guys at school. Sigh.

_**Read and Reviewing increases your life span. Yes, that is a fact. There are studies out to prove it.**_


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Not mine, I happen to on the DVD though. Oh, and the laptop I'm typing it on. That's a first!

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews on the last chapter. I'm sorry that this is months late.

When a young budding hero (or sidekick) first enters Sky High he or she receives a copy of The Official Hero's Handbook. Or the sidekick equivalent I'm not sure what those look like, I've never actually seen one. I don't think the sidekicks actually read them. Probably destroy them on sight actually. I think Layla tried reading her copy and found it to be more boring than watching grass grow, that's after she apologized to the nearby lawn for insulting it…yeah, shes an odd one I know. I think Zack just threw his copy off the side of the school. Probably fell out of the sky and thwacked some poor dude half way across the world who is still confused as to where the book came from or as to which language it's written in. Anyway I think you get my point…

Back to The Official Hero's Handbook (yes this does have to do with my life story I'm not stalling here, no honestly, I'm not) the book lays out the law for what every young budding hero needs to study and learn while in High School. It goes through year by year semester by semester the required classes.

Well guess what my least favorite, most abhorred class is? You got it, Villains 101. Guess why? I know, I know a really hard question that is…um, lets think big bad villains here…right!

My old man has got an entire chapter devoted to him in our text book. That's really saying something, because there are a lot of bad guys out there that we need to know about. That really makes class great fun for me, his son. Who has his powers and slightly resembles him. It's a blast, let me tell ya. I just love those horrified mutters in the corners when they think I'm not looking or listening to them along with the gasps of horror stemming from reading the chapter.

So why does he have his own chapter? He is hardly the first "Super" Villain the world has seen and he certainly isn't the last.

Well there is actually an answer for all of this. Most super villains one sees on the news are of your "Disney" verity. You may ask "Disney" huh? Look at it this way. One day your average Joe or Jane finds out that he or she has superpowers, because hey it runs in the family or you fell into a vat of toxic waste or got bit by a radioactive…creature. That's cool, right; it feels like the whole world is at your fingertips. You're powerful, and playing by the rules isn't quite your niche. You're told by school and society that every one is equal. That's BS and will always be BS! You are bigger and badder than most. (Not all super villains have bad grammar, actually many have an excellent vocabulary and conversation skills. It does take a decent amount of intelligence to be a super villain. Well, a good super villain that is…) You want to show people just how powerful you are. Brag a little, show the civilians what they are missing. So, you stop playing by the petty little rules society likes to enforce on people. Instead you form your own rules. Have a little fun in the process. You decide to take over a city, build an 'evil' robot, army, or try and brainwash what ever interests you at the time. The 'good guys' gain wind of your nefarious plans and swear to put a stop to your plan. In the end you have a show offy battle with your mortal enemy…usually lose and flee town to lick your wounds….UNTIL NEXT TIME…because you…WILL RETURN!!!! Cue 'evil' laugh that supposedly strikes fear or amusement into your enemies hearts.

Sound kind of familiar? Same old story.

Every one knows your name, but, besides some damage to public property and peoples' pride no one really gets hurt.

That doesn't describe my old man, not by a long shot. People get hurt. Some get killed. It's not a game with him. He makes his point and doesn't let people forget. He can be truly terrifying.

I'm not the only son of a Super Villain at Sky High. But I am the only son of a murderer there.

I really don't understand what drove my Father to do what he did. I hope that I never will understand, truly. What ever pushed him to far… I'm completely capable of becoming even more terrifying than him. I'm powerful, I'm intelligent, and I know that the good guys aren't always good or right and the bad guys aren't always wrong. It's just the measures that they go to, to make a point. I have had a glimpse of those measures through my father, and have seen glimpses of it in my self and others.

Some of them have logical reasons for their actions. My father had logical reasons for his actions. Politics, world affairs, society and the super society as a whole, some things do need to change, and so he did his best to change them.

I don't think the five or so people he burned to death _quite_ agreed with his tactics.

Mom and I certainly didn't.

Contrary to popular belief around here I'm not going to follow in his footsteps. Oh, I could, I could be a lot worse if I wanted to be. I'm not denying _that_.

I'm just pointing out that, I actually have a choice about my future and I'm positive I'm not what people expect.

Well, I've ranted here to you guys today and told you very little else 'bout my life. I guess I'm supposed to move the story along a little more, huh? Yeah, I get it. But you got me started on my sorry excuse for a father (that I actually like…under some circumstances) and I just went along with that.

I'm sure the gang here will drag more of my life story out of me later.

Read! Review! And all that jazz...


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: An update after who knows how long. By now I have probably lost all my wonderful reviewers! Don't blame them in the slightest…I'm like the worlds biggest procrastinator…I actually updated. This should be a national holiday. Make that international!

0o0o0o0

Let's get off the depressing and rage inducing semi-boring topic of my father Barren Battle. Here's an even more depressing topic than wide spread murder. High School. Oh, come on you know I'm right. High School is HELL. It's full of lame-ass clichés and burnt out teachers…and I'm not just talking about the teachers I have accidentally set on fire.

Yes, Mom, that was an accident! Why don't you believe me… never mind, whose side are you on anyway?

Where was I? High School land of the popular jocks i.e. Will Stronghold when he arrives. Chill out Stronghold, this is my life story, so shut up and let me ramble on for awhile. For some strange reason you are in my life so you have to deal with being in this autobiographical masterpiece I'm mangling.

So besides the clichés there are the classes, which supposedly this is the reason we even bother to attend school. Now everyone already knows I can't stand Villains 101, we've been down that road. So what about the other classes you might ask…What do I think about the other classes I have to deal with for four years?

Gym is actually fun…probably because I'm left alone most of the time, and then once Stronghold comes into the picture we kick everyone's ass. Which is wicked, man!

Math and Science, even on the super level are easy for me. That explains why when I'm not working I'm always tutoring my idiot friends…and I use the word friends loosely. They are more like stalkers or parasites. I can't seem get rid of you guys.

Yes you heard me correctly, Layla. No I do not "Oh you love us, Warren" as you so claim hippie.

What do you mean; I thought I sounded just like you.

Stronghold you might want to stop laughing at your girlfriend she might make your lawn trip you next time your mowing it. Or does tripping fall under violence as a big non-hippie like action?

English is by far the most boring subject….ever. I sleep though class and make straight A's. The teachers' go on and on about how Edgar Allen Poe was the original hack writer…wait that was a Stephen King essay, I knew that sounded to interesting to be taught at our school.

That's just the normal side of Lit. Then you have the "Super" Lit we have to cover. Who wants to write an essay on the best way of taking credit for your hardworking sidekick's credit? That essay isn't assigned these day's it's not PC.

I could go on and on about the mediocre classes offered. But I won't, because everyone wants to hear a story not a list of grievances. Never mind let me go on about my classes. Any 'intro' class is a waste of time. Unless you have been up all night and want a nap. Then it's a great class not boring at all.

Ok, I'm moving on.

So this brings us to Piloting and Mechanics 101. This is a rather interesting class. Completely hands on. This is the class where you're taught how to stop that jet about to fly into a major international building, or fix the engine on your flying car, or make sure the boosters on your jetpack are working and how to slow down that speeding train that's about to come off the tracks. Boring stuff like that happens in this class…

They also teach you how to steer, pilot, and fly this machinery. It's a useful lesson for all unlucky supers that can't fly or have super speed. Like me. I just light things on fire if you haven't noticed.

That's when my problems started. My class was starting to clock hours to become licensed pilots for various airplanes. You had to have so many hours up in the air with a licensed pilot. Well it was my turn to start and I forgot one very important thing.

Make that two important things.

The higher you go up in the air the less oxygen there is to breathe.

Airplanes have large pure oxygen tanks in them.

Third important thing? Yeah, there's three things…

Fire and oxygen equals really BIG fire.

How come my so called "teachers" not know this? Frankly, I'm surprise we managed to land that plane in a very well placed Atlantic Ocean. What was left of it anyway.

Long story short. That traumatized pilot retired never to fly again. In fact he bought a sail boat and never left the safety of water surrounding him on all sides. So I heard anyway.

Sky High's insurance policy most likely skyrocketed and I never got to fly a perfectly normal plane. Specially designed planes for people with powers like mine I'm cool with but normal planes no way! Now you know why my old man always drove across the country. I had to find out the hard way. By personally blowing the damn plane up…

Thanks for letting me in on that little detail, _Mom_.

For some strange reason this made me highly popular at school and I was elected prom king that year.

If you took that last line seriously I worry about your sanity, its called sarcasm.

By everyone's silence I think they got it. Or else my friends are bigger idiots than I gave credit for. I got to leave for work…stop by and leave one big-ass tip.

Paper Lantern down on Bay Street, oh, now you want to know how I got that job? Maybe next time…

**READ! REVIEW! CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM!** I hear reviewing is the number one doctor recommended way of improving your health, losing weight and all over sort of nifty things!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Not mine.

A/N: I wrote another chapter. That's what, an update once a year? Nope, no good excuse for my lack of updates. I however will not abandon this small little fic. Why? Because I've become attached to it and I feel like it has grown up with me. Wow that's kind of pathetic I must admit. Sadly, my chapters (at least pertaining to this story) are as short as ever and I also have no plans of completely revamping it to make it better. However one day it will be complete. So thanks for reading. Shameless plug: go check out my newer stuff in various different fandoms.

0o0o0o0o0o0

Well the legal drinking age in this state is 21, as is the rest of the country. After last Saturday's party I thought I should bring that point up. Considering that we were all at that party and none of us were old enough to get that wasted. However, it has nothing to do with my life story so we can discuss Magenta's unfortunate new hair color later.

Yes I know, my red streaks are _natural! _You're right I am blessed with nice hair…_girls…_

By the way, what were you thinking, Maj? A bit of a light weight there with the alcohol if you ask me!

Was that supposed to hurt? You just managed to hit leather…

Moving on as usual.

While the legal drinking age has little to do with my life story at this point in time, the legal age of serving alcohol in a restaurant does play a fairly significant role in this inquisition of my life story I'm facing from you guys.

Job hunting. I hear it's a real pain in the ass for most people. I know it was for me and I had a few things standing in my way when I started. See here I have compiled a list that you may pass around and read at your leisure, before I continue with my story. Enjoy, feel free to write down any questions, comments, or concerns in the appropriate area.

**Warren's List of Job-Hunting Pitfalls **

**a.k.a.**

**A Way to Avoid Talking About My Life for As Long As Possible.**

A) My age. I just happened to have just turned 15 when I decided to look for a job. This made the first six or seven places I walked into turn me down within minutes of finding out my age. At first glance they had thought I was older than I was. The next major hurtle I had to face, well actually this should be number one on the list, was…

B) My appearance. Surprise! Surprise! Owners of different establishments sometimes dislike people that aren't exactly clean cut and white bread in style. The hair (while Magenta seems to covet it) does not inspire most owners to go "Oh yes, we must simply have staff member with shoulder length hair and red highlights! While we are hiring you let's make that a requirement for all the men on our floor." Then I made the mistake of rolling up my sleeves at one place and they saw the flame tattoos on my arms, not a great selling point. Perhaps, my appearance should have been number one on this list. However, everyone reading this is lucky that I'm telling you anything so don't complain to me because I Do Not Care.

.

..

.

What was I wearing? What sort of question is that _Frost_? Hey, that was cold! All right, All right, I'll tell you what I was wearing.

I had on a long sleeve button up colored shirt. I have to include colors? Hmm, black shirt. Dark blue jeans. Black shoes. Black leather belt. Sliver buckle.

Damn straight it sounds like I dressed up. Do you honestly think I felt comfortable? I was trying to find a job, I had to put some effort into it.

I see…it's not a reflection on how I feel about you that I dressed better for a job interview than a date with you. I didn't enjoy looking for a job. I like spending time with you. Usually. Except when the temperature drops in the room below freezing.

Fine. Jeans without holes on our next date.

The rest of you stop staring and continue reading. Never seen fire and ice mix before?

.

..

.

C) It had to be in walking/bus riding distance to my house. Easier said than done. Have you seen where we live? Not a lot of thriving hiring businesses around. The gas station two blocks over where drug deals go down each night doesn't count. I'm sure that would look wonderful on my college applications.

D) Working papers. See side notes about Paper Lantern interview. Annoying Story.

What do you mean I forgot to include the side notes about the Paper Lantern interview? Yes, I understand the notes are not part of the packet of papers I passed out to the lot of you. I was hoping no one would notice that small fact. Here's the next set of papers for you to read. Now stop interrupting…

**A Short Account of the Paper Lantern Desperation for a Job-at-this-point Attempt**

I walked in. I talked to the hostess. I stated I wanted to apply for a job. It turns out they might be willing to hire someone. I was then introduced to the owners. One week later I was hired. The End.

.

..

.

Well I clearly typed up at the top there that it was a _short account_ of the process I went through to get my job at the Paper Lantern.

See, sarcasm, contrary to popular belief does translate onto paper. You just have to know how to pull it off. I seem to think I'm fairly good at it.

Stop glaring.

Well since you asked so nicely I'll fill in the rest of the details about the job at some later date. How's next year sound?

Not a good plan?

Fine here we go.

The Paper Lantern was the last place I ended up trying to apply at. I had easily been turned down by a good ten to fifteen places. I was running out of options at this point. As I wrote before, I walked into the last restaurant on Bay Street and said hell with it, may as well get turned down one last time.

Since the Paper Lantern was a Chinese Restaurant I had made the wild assumption they preferred their staff to be Chinese. For once in my life, my wild assumption was spot on.

In extremely broken Chinese (remember Mom's good at the whole Rosetta Stone translation thing, I might of picked up a thing or two) I asked the five foot nothing lady owner if she was hiring. After she twisted her neck trying to look me in the eye, she babbled excitedly to the staff standing around the back where we were talking. I think she said something along the lines of the 'the giant with the bad accent is going to work here from now on'.

That's what it sounded like, but then I only caught every third word. Thus, I ended up with a job, unlike the rest of you guys that have nothing better to do than listen to me talk.


End file.
